Monday, June 27, 2011

The Hunt

Sometimes I wonder where peace and balance unite.

Is it somewhere in amongst the confusion and solidity of the universe?

Could my ebbs & flows be the rippled waters tickling the sandy grains of shoreline?

Or can I find myself in the mighty & thunderous waves as they apex and descend intimidatingly in the marvelous blue unknown?


It's what we all innately long to be.
Better beings.
Better living beings.

Yet clouds of chaos rumble,
Time lines and deadlines command response.
And quality slowly steps aside as quantity plays the lead role on center stage.

Better beings.
Better LIVING beings, yes.

And so it is in my quandaries of less vs. more, I stop from time to time and look for their rendezvous spot?
That location.
You know, where peace & balance unite?

And like an adeptly keen bird dog with a fresh wet nose to the ground, my heart races to tail their scent and track them down.

And with my heart on the hunt, I am victorious.

Heart over head.
My heart in His hand.

For one and for all.

.mac :)

Sunday, June 26, 2011


An array

of     c    o   l   o    r    s.

electric avenue blue

Supple & robust.

liquid or pencil

I delight in your embellishment.

.mac :)

Saturday, June 25, 2011


Yet unapproachable you are,
For vulnerability proclaims your presence.

I am enveloped by you.
And with no scheduled appointment, we meet.

In times of happy joy, you trickle full.
In times of sorrow & doubt, you rage.

Your performance always commanding.
Your release...right on time.

Sequestering me from my pride;  you revel in your now.

I am yours.

And, I am always better after your stay.



Friday, June 24, 2011


{no photo}

Do you have any idea what the above type does to me?

I am typing with a very non-flattering cringe all up ON MY FACE right this very moment.

I have always known I was a perfectionist.  I can clearly recall being just 4 years of age and taking great joy in adeptly maneuvering hospital corners while making my lil twin bed adorned with my handmade-by-mom Holly Hobby bedspread. 

I can remember with great precision how I would climb into that twin bed to produce the least amount of ripples and wrinkles; I had it down to an almost exact science at four.


And, then when mom and dad would come to tuck me in at night I would require and vehemently request just a kiss on the forehead so as to not disrupt the covers any further.

I would sleep on my back with my hands to my side straight.

The visual is much like that belonging in a funeral home now that I think of it.

With all these precautions taken, I am sure it is no surprise shock to you that I would wake up only to de-robe the entire bed and make it all again from scratch.

Can one prescribe anxiety drugs to a four year old I ask you?

And I will spare you of my door-closing metaphor for life that reverberates in my noggin on a daily basis.

Let's just say wine helps.  

And for those fellow perfectionists out there, does your work ever feel perfect to you?

Cast my vote as no.

So, I like to think that my circumstances, as of late, are for a better reason.

  1. 5 weeks sans computer (Come to find out, MacBooks don't like orange juice.  Nope, they don't want a drink, not even a small sip, even if it is offered to them by my 6 year old.)
  2. Our family of 4 living in 2 different zip codes as Kenny moves forward with his new job transition.
  3. A housing depression in a failing market AND our house up for sale
  4. Me, without  hair color for 4 months.
  6. The increase and abnormality of strange-ranger black hairs sprinkling my chinny-chin-chin.
Trust me, the last 3 are the most unbearable.

And so, I keep asking myself, where are your hospital corners now, Holly Hobby?

Ah, yes, the better reason.


No pun intended there for my chin hairs, mind you.

I am to step out and stretch.
Look past the controllable as well, control, he ain't there.
He never was.
Perfection? He doesn't exist either.

Reliance, Hardwork, Integrity, Honesty, Laughter, Love, Prayer, and Presence are asking me to tuck them nicely in.

Forget the right angle-fold down and forehead kiss.
Pile in and snuggle full bodied.
Coffin living ain't the life for me.

I am reminding myself daily.

And, I have a call-in prescription for those prickly suckers on my chin.

Prevention and Perseverance all tucked in perfectly comfortably.

Yes, that's more like it.

.mac :)
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